Adrenaline pulsed through our bodies as we nervously took our positions in the field. It was an important playoff game, and everyone was feeling the pressure. The second baseman dropped a routine fly in the bottom of the seventh, allowing three runs to score which tied the game. In the third inning the right fielder had uncharacteristically overrun a pop-up after losing it in the sun, permitting the first run.

Now it was the bottom of the eight inning, the score tied, runners on first and third with two outs. Their cleanup hitter was standing at the plate, windmilling that big 36-ounce stick in the pitcher's face with the look of vengeance in his eyes. Somehow I sensed he would be coming my way as I stooped down and took my defensive position. The windup. The pitch. "Pow!" The ball exploded…